Wind and Truth (The Stormlight Archive, #5)

by Brandon Sanderson

In that vision, the Blackthorn had formed. And the Blackthorn … it was a legend. It was spoken of, molded by the minds of people, taking shape. It had responded differently from every other part of the visions, for things people thought about came alive. A great number of people thought about the Blackthorn. The stories of him outgrew Dalinar himself—who had made at least one mistake. He’d given this thing his memories, shown it the future, and now it came even more fully to life. Retribution cradled it. You are right, it said to him, making his ego soothe and anger soften. He was weak. I am not weak. I will not do the things he showed me. I will not weep, drunken, when an assassin must be fought. I will not back down from the fight and the conquest. I am the Blackthorn. Will you serve me? Retribution asked. When I take war to the stars. It is what I do, said the Blackthorn. Yes … a mistake. Dalinar had Connected to this nascent spren of himself, given it his memories, his skill—memories that, in it, came too soon. It was what Dalinar could have been, had Cultivation not protected him from his actions. Greater than Gavilar, greater than any man. A true champion. With incredible battle acumen, brilliant understanding of tactics and strategy, and Dalinar’s stubborn force of will. But without the weak inhibitions of his old age, such as having been broken by his wife’s death. Yes. Dalinar Kholin had died. But the Blackthorn would live.